


Memories (or lack of them)

by Nyx (Astriea)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Memory Loss, brain washing, strex being evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astriea/pseuds/Nyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Sand Storm fades, Kevin starts getting some of his memories back. (Of course they can't be true, he never set foot inside of Night Vale. Right?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories (or lack of them)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a theory of mine when I realized the Kevin is not a perfect double of Cecil. That and wondering how drugged people in Dessert Bluffs are inspired this.

Kevin sat quietly in his chair, watching the sand storm fade. “Today was great.” He announced to the empty air of his blood soaked booth. He thought back to the man that he had met in the portal. The man that looked just like him.   
He had been angry at the man. He wondered why. It wasn’t because he wasn’t covered in blood as was custom. Some people had their own personal preferences. Or course no one in Desert Bluffs was like that. Strex made sure of it.  
Thinking of the benign (of course they’re benign, what else could they be?) rulers of his town, he decided to stop thinking of his double. Thinking to hard decreased productivity (at least that is what Strex said.)  
Saying goodbye to intern Vanessa, he decided to go home. Still the thoughts persisted. On his way out, he took his dosage of the happy drug that Stex provided. He smiled as he felt all of the bad feelings wash away. At least while he was awake.  
When he slept, he dreamed of Night Vale. He dreamed of growing up there. (That’s a silly idea, he lived in Desert Bluffs all of his life. He had never gone to Night Vale. Just because he couldn’t remember his child hood didn’t mean that it wasn’t blood soaked and there.)  
He dreamed of a mostly absent and barely ever lucid mother. And a brother who adored her against all reason, (he would insist that it was not her fault, she was just too busy seeing things to pay attention to them for too long. That didn’t mean that she didn’t love them.) he should know he had tried to get some reason into the kids head. (That was an incredibly silly idea. He had no family.)  
He dreamed of getting his first gun from a shadow government. He dreamed of bloody Valentine’s Day. He dreamed of hiding from street cleaning day, knowing that if he went out, he would certainly see something awful.   
He was angry a lot here. Angry at his mother and by extension his brother with his stupid dreams and naïve way of thinking, he was never going to get that radio job, his didn’t have the voice for it.   
It was amazing really how much they looked alike; they were however, worlds apart as far as personality was concerned. (He wasn’t going to think about how much that man looked like him.)  
That life, as all things do, ended. One day his mother went off the deep end of all deep ends and disappeared. His brother was attacked by a mirror. (He hopped that he survived. He was family after all.)  
Then he met his savior. A man came out of a yellow helicopter and offered him the chance to be happy. The chance to forget. (He made a deal with the devil, he realized. He was as lucid as his mother was.)  
(At least his brother was ok, naïve as always with horrendous memory problems, but ok. (His mother’s gift was too big to only give to one child. While his brother embraced it, he ruthlessly ignored it. He wasn’t going to be a freak like them.)  
No he was not a freak; he thought angrily (some of the first real anger that he had in years. It was intoxicating.) He was Kevin. (Or was he, why would Strex let him keep his name if it didn’t let him keep his memories?)  
When he woke up, he decided to try to find the records from when the man had visited his studio.   
He was half way to the radio building (why was he working at the radio anyways? In his dream he certainly didn’t want to work there.) He was going to break a law. Not that he cared about that, rules were made to be broken.  
When he got into the bloody building, he was immediately met with his boss Lauren. “Hello Kevin, nice day isn’t it?”  
“Of course,” he schooled his face into a vacant smile. It felt wrong.  
“You seem a little off. Have you taken your dose of happy today?” She was looking at his intently, studying his face. She probably had noticed how wrong his smile looked. Strex knew everything. (Why did he suddenly hate that idea? It had never bothered him before. Then again, he had never missed a dose of happy before.)   
“I took some home with me last night and took some this morning. I’ll be fine. Do you need to talk to me some more or should I go to my booth? Not working decreases productivity.” (He realized how idiotic he sounded.)  
Lauren, looking relived, smiled. “Of course Kevin, just remember to keep on taking happy. It’s good for you.”  
He gave her a smile. Hopefully she didn’t notice how strained it was. Why hadn’t he noticed before how creepy she was?  
When he replayed the records from the last show, he couldn’t believe how happy he sounded. The man by comparison, sounded terrified over a little blood and viscera. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt something that might be interpreted as proud. This man surely had the voice for the radio.)  
He then turned off the records. (Strex was always watching, he didn’t want to be caught.) Intern Vanessa came in and gave him the first news of the day. Srex was hoping to start to do business with (take over) Night Vale. He said this cheerfully but he was starting to feel dread, no concern. Night Vale hated Desert Bluffs with a fiery passion. (Why hadn’t he known that yesterday?)  
After the show, he met some Strex employees. They wanted to reeducate him. He now remembered enough to know what that meant. He knew that tomorrow he would be too drugged to remember this. That didn’t stop him from resisting. Thrashing around and letting out a stream of creative curses, he relished being angry.  
Tomorrow he will think that he is happy. (While not knowing what being happy really is.) Tomorrow he will believe that his town and by extension Strex is great. Tomorrow he will believe in a smiling god. Tomorrow he will have no family.


End file.
